“Do you remember my position at the court in Nuremberg?”
Spiraling, spiraling, up a staircase caged in cogs.
“Clockmaker,” said Drosselmeier, “and magician.”
“What do you mean to do?” panted the astronomer.
“We have chased Krakatuk into the future; we cannot know where it will be. But we know precisely where it was!”
The cold struck a bolt through his chest. “Oh Drosselmeier,” he whispered, still climbing, “it has driven you to madness!”
A heaving, grinding sound, as Drosselmeier threw the gear train into reverse; time sheared at the astronomer, and he was–
Spiraling, spiraling, up a staircase caged in cogs–
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Hands clapped numb to his roaring ears, the astronomer shoved his shoulder against the access door at the back of the tower. It gave easily; its lock had been shattered by muzzle-load shot.
“Drosselmeier!” he shouted, inside, just as the bell finished its eleventh toll and ground to silence. Â The echo hung for a long time.
“Do you know,” came Drosselmeier’s voice from far overhead, “they say the sun itself consults this clock to determine when to rise?”
“Children’s tales,” chattered the astronomer, trying to find a staircase.
“We have been living a child’s tale for fifteen years,” Drosselmeier said.
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
It was only by blizzard-blind luck that the astronomer passed through the enemy fortifications, but pass he did, scarf freezing to his face.
At first he thought it was a cannon resuming fire, madly, in the snow-whipped darkness. Â The sound rolled through his shivering body with a note so low as to be percussive. Â Then the other bells followed, building an arpeggio, and when the deepest began again he understood: Â it was midnight, and the great clock was turning Eve into Day–
The clock.
Of course.
The astronomer ran, following the bells to the heart of the Chestnut City.
Monday, December 27, 2010
“We must for the bivouac,” said the astronomer, “we’ll freeze out here.”
“Go,” said Drosselmeier, drawing his saber and pulling himself from the trench. “I have business in the city, and no better chance to transact it.”
“Drosselmeier! Wait!” He stumbled after, into the white wind.
“I set out to find Krakatuk for the sake of a child, cursed through no fault but her father’s. You asked why I brought you here; in truth I wish I had joined the fight alone.” Drosselmeier’s words were a trail of ghosts. “I began this quest for pity. I will finish it for love.”
Friday, December 24, 2010
“I have exhausted your sympathy,” said Drosselmeier, “is that it? I have at long last run out your patience.”
“I only want to understand your purpose.”
“Have you ever?”
“I thought I had,” said the astronomer.
“Perhaps,” said Drosselmeier. “Oh, that my purpose were constant; oh, that it were beacon and buoy on the dark sea of this search. But it has not been, my friend! It shifts, and I tack to follow, with patched sails and a splintered rudder.”
The cannons were quiescing, the storm setting in with silent fury. Snowflakes, white as age, caught on their beards and eyebrows.
Thursday, December 23, 2010
“My friend,” said the astronomer, struggling for civility in the midst of the battlefield, “sometimes I think you throw us both behind a cause without consulting for consequences.”
“We cannot wait for the stars to align,” said Drosselmeier. “If we are to finish our search–”
“Is that your intention? To finish it?” said the astronomer, his color high. “I am not at all sure!”
“Of course!”
“There is no hard nut here, Drosselmeier!” A dull and deafening mark of punctuation; brick shards kissed their cheeks. “Only cold, and soldiers we do not know, and death in the mouth of the cannon!”
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
He was at war.
Then, as now, cannon case-shot bombardment was nearly as effective at killing one’s own infantry as the enemy’s. Â Drosselmeier and the astronomer scrambled down into the remnants of a cellar stair as death whistled by. Â Thunder followed; dust poured down.
“You know, I studied quite hard in order to never join an army,” panted the astronomer.
“Chin up, head down,” said Drosselmeier. “Between the Chinkapin and the Chestnut lies a matter of honor and long history. We are privileged to join their fight.”
“Whose side are we on again?”
“I do not entirely remember,” Drosselmeier said.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Now you already know that in their quest to find the nut Krakatuk and save the cursed Princess Pirlipat, the royal watchmaker Drosselmeier and his friend the astronomer trudged through every land known to Christendom and a few more besides. They sought their prize amongst enemies in the Pistachio Kingdom; they shed light on the secrets of the Horticultural Society of Acornshausen. They rescued the niece of the grand duke of Almonds and played chess with the Walnut King himself.
But do you know what Drosselmeier was doing on the fifteenth and final Christmas of his quest?
Well, then, I’ll tell you.
Monday, December 20, 2010
The fever, to Juno, is an excuse for an afternoon alone. The afternoon alone is an excuse for a fix. The fix is an excuse to indulge in her purity ritual.
Sometimes she does it two or three times just to make sure it takes: check the door locks, set needle to vinyl, space heater, phone silent, line chair up with seams in the tile. Compulsion. Her hands are shaking a little, but they have plenty of reasons to do so.
For what, begs the question, is the ritual an excuse? Dopamine circuits close in Juno’s brain, sparing her the answer.
Friday, December 17, 2010